


like a bridge over troubled water

by CivilBores



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, Major injuries, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture, Violence, Whump, is implied - Freeform, its awful guys, lowkey, major hurt comfort, only lasts for a bit tho bc hey hes spider man, shameless whump, venom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-17 15:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11854563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CivilBores/pseuds/CivilBores
Summary: “You’ve gotta get better at this part of the job,” Tony says.Peter’s sure he’s heard this before. He sighs. “What part?”“Communication,” Tony tells him. “Knowing when you need to reach out to other people and get help. Nobody’s asking you to get yourself nearly killed without a single call for help.”~In which Peter faces unthinkable, unprecedented challenges in the form of a creature called Venom, and learns to reach out to others for help on the way.





	1. when darkness comes

**Author's Note:**

> alternatively titled, "i just really wanted to write a pure, shameless whump that addresses peter's horrible decisions when it comes to communication skills."  
> plus venom will never be in the mcu, and let's be honest, it's absolutely terrifying and there's no way peter would be able to handle that nightmare alone.  
> title from "bridge over troubled water"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s moving. It’s- it’s like a giant slug, a slimy pile of goo, or a puddle of shit- but it’s alive, and it’s moving, and it’s not stopping and it’s touching him, too close, too close, too close-
> 
> Peter jerks his head free and gasps. “Karen!” he screams. “Karen, what- what the hell is this thing?!”

Abandoned warehouses are so not Peter’s thing. 

 

After the fight with Toomes, Peter was on edge for weeks. Everything was beginning to weigh on him- the building falling, the plane crash, the fire, the fact that he broke apart Liz’s family and had her sent away. 

 

He’s better now. And just when he thought he was getting over it, he’s getting reports of suspicious activity in an abandoned warehouse just like the one that collapsed on him on Homecoming night.

 

It’s part of the job, Peter reminds himself. At least it’ll be quick, though. A few civilians had reported that they’d heard some strange sounds coming from inside, and saw a large, shadowy shape moving through the darkness.

 

So basically Peter’s here because people are afraid of a boogie monster. He’s not complaining, because it makes his job a hell of a lot easier- all he has to do is go inside, flip on a few lights, inspect the place, and tell everyone that they’re safe and there’s no monsters under the bed and everything’s going to be just fine.

 

It’s kind of funny how Peter’s supposed to be the young one, and yet he’s preparing to comfort a bunch of scared shitless adults who’re afraid of the dark.

 

Peter lands on the top of the warehouse with both his arms and legs extended- the impact jostles him and rattles his teeth, and okay, maybe he shouldn’t have jumped so far and so high all at once. He peers through the glass- it’s so dark, you couldn’t even tell the glass was even there. Everything just looks black. 

 

From the outside, there are no monsters, but he has to investigate still. 

 

_ This is kind of stupid, _ Peter thinks to himself as he lowers himself into the area.  _ Monsters don’t even exist, and yet, here I am, searching an entire warehouse for them.  _

 

Being a superhero means you have to do whatever it takes to make the city feel safe. Even if  _ that  _ means going on a wild goose chase for Bigfoot.

 

Peter lets himself drop onto the ground, almost soundlessly. He’s still working on that one- making his landings silent. He’s close, though, so he takes it as a win as he walks further into the vicinity.

 

It’s pitch black. Every time he turns his head, he can’t see a single thing- he feels as if his eyes are closed, but his blinks indicate otherwise. 

 

“Would you like me to scan the area for human activity?” Karen asks.

 

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Peter says. 

 

“Scan complete. No human activity detected.”

 

Peter sighs. “Knew it. What a waste of time, huh?”

 

“They weren’t looking for humans down here,” Karen points out.

 

“Well,” Peter says. “Unless you have a monster activity scanner, I don’t think it really matters.”

 

“I don’t,” Karen says. “But I have detected signs of an inhuman life form.”

 

“Like… a cat, or something?” Peter keeps walking until his shoulder bumps into a wall, and turns the other way down a hall. “Anything that needs rescuing?”

 

“I’m not sure what it is,” Karen says. “Or where it is.”

 

“No offense, Karen, but that’s kind of useless right now.” Peter squints down the hallway. “I can’t see a thing… Karen, is there anything down there?”

 

“I can equip a flashlight, if you’d like,” Karen says. 

 

“You’ve had that the whole time?” Peter scoffs. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“You didn’t ask,” Karen says defensively.

 

“Well, yeah, turn on the flashlight.”

 

“Left wrist,” Karen says. 

 

Peter lifts his wrist and bright white light flickers on, illuminating a beam throughout the dark hallway. He points it all the way down and looks, but it’s just dirty walls and concrete floors.

 

There’s nothing here but emptiness and the stench of must. What was he expecting to find, anyway? Some big, terrifying black monster?

 

“Nothing,” he says. “I knew it, this was so stupid. There’s nothing even down here.”

 

“Behind you,” Karen says. 

 

Peter whirls around on his heel and points the flashlight in the other direction.

 

Nothing. 

 

More concrete, on the walls and the floor. Peter lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

 

“What the hell, Karen?” Peter says in a hushed, shrill voice. “You scared me! There’s nothing there either.”

 

“It’s here,” Karen says. 

 

Her voice is oddly quiet.

 

Peter turns his head again.

 

This time, when he raises his flashlight, the beam lights up a huge black mass, towering over him with a long row of razor sharp teeth bared in an ugly grimace and a flailing pink tongue that flicks saliva onto Peter’s face.

 

Peter doesn’t even have time to scream before the mass lunges at him.

 

It’s everywhere. Literally everywhere. It’s surging forward, almost as if going past him, but it’s curling  _ around  _ him- what even is it?!- it’s wet and slimy and cold and disgusting. Peter makes a choked noise as a tendril of black reaches up and passes over his masked face, suffocating him. It’s too close. It’s too rough. Why didn’t his spider-sense go off? 

 

It’s  _ moving.  _ It’s- it’s like a giant slug, a slimy pile of goo, or a puddle of shit- but it’s  _ alive, _ and it’s _ moving,  _ and it’s  _ not stopping _ and it’s  _ touching him,  _ too close, too close, too close- 

 

Peter jerks his head free and gasps. “Karen!” he screams. “Karen, what- what the hell is this thing?!”

 

“I don’t know,” Karen says. “Its species is unidentified. It’s not human, and it’s not an animal, either.”

 

Peter yanks his left wrist free from the blackness and flashes his light in the creature’s face again, hoping to blind it or at least disable it. 

 

The thing simply wraps around his wrist again and twists it sharply. The snap echoes throughout the warehouse over the sound of the creature sloshing around and Peter’s own heartbeat in his ears.

 

The light flickers out and darkness consumes them whole.

 

“Oh my god,” Peter says, succumbing to his own panic. “Oh my god-”

 

“Broken wrist detected,” Karen says. “Flashlight ruptured. Left webshooter ruptured. You don’t have another one equipped.”

 

The thing hasn’t released Peter’s wrist. It’s moving again, crawling- no, creeping- up his arm, snaking around it. He needs to web it up, but he can’t move, it’s pulling him down, drowning him.

 

“Stop- stop it!” Peter shrieks wildly. He flails desperately in the thing’s grasp. “Let go of me-!!”

 

His arm bends roughly.

 

It cracks.

 

Peter bites back a scream. Bile is building at the base of his throat.

 

“Broken arm detected,” Karen says. 

 

“It’s not letting go,” Peter says, his voice breathy and shrill. “Karen, it’s  _ not letting go of me! _ ”

 

The mass is back over his face, and Peter can feel it even through the fabric of his mask. It’s wet and disgusting- what kind of creature even is this? 

 

It’s not human. It’s not an animal either.

 

It’s a living nightmare.

 

The thing exhales a hot breath right behind Peter’s neck, and Peter shudders. The thing is covering his entire body, all over, Peter can’t even feel anything but the black goo in every direction- it’s so close, too close, Peter feels violated and revolted all at once-

 

“ _ Spider _ ,” the thing whispers. “ _ I can feel you. I know your scent.” _

 

“It can talk,” Peter says, more to himself than to anyone else, and he begins to laugh almost hysterically because the entire situation is so ridiculously  _ damned. _ “You can  _ talk,  _ of course you can talk.” 

 

The thing takes another heavy breath and Peter can feel it all the way down to his spine. If the thing can talk, Peter at least needs to get the information he needs.

 

“What are you?” Peter chokes out.

 

_ “Venom,” _ the thing says.

 

And then it raises a long, tendril-like hand with sharp, pointed fingers, and digs it into Peter’s side. It pierces through Peter’s skin and Peter feels multiple bones inside of him  _ crunch _ , and then the thing rips out of him again with a disgusting sloshing sound, even more painfully than it entered.

 

Peter’s back arches and he gasps. His knees give way and he falls- he wishes he’d just fall straight onto the concrete floor, but he just lands straight back into the sea of black. “Oh my god, oh my  _ god-  _ Karen, run vitals, run vitals _ - _ ”

 

“Multiple broken ribs and a punctured lung detected,” Karen says. “Peter, you need to get out of here. Your condition is growing increasingly worse.”

 

“I need to get out,” Peter echoes helplessly. Everything inside of him feels broken, and- and  _ dirty, _ like it’s been infected by Venom- like Venom itself has plagued him and it’s on him now. “It won’t  _ get off me _ \- oh my god, it’s not getting off of me-”

 

Venom wraps itself around Peter’s face and then Peter can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t move- all he can feel is Venom. Venom’s touch alone makes Peter want to retch. It’s touching Peter in- in places Peter has never even touched himself- and it’s soft and cold and just so, so wrong. Everything about it is wrong. It makes Peter feel filthy, fills Peter with the desperate need to scrub at his bare skin for hours until all of what’s on the outside of him was been scraped away down to the bone. Maybe he’d feel clean, then. It’s breathing against him. It’s repulsive. It’s all over him. There’s no space for anything else. Peter can’t remember what it was like to have personal space.

 

When the building collapsed on Peter, he couldn’t breathe. He thought he was going to die and that he’d be all alone. When he was on top of the invisible jet and fighting the Vulture, he thought about falling off, crashing into the city and splatting onto the ground in a puddle of what used to be skin and bones. When he was on the beach, flames surrounding him, he thought he’d been scared.

 

He thought he’d seen the worst of being a superhero.

 

This- this was unlike anything Peter had ever felt before. It was horrible, awful, made every fiber in Peter’s being feel out of place and gross and disgusting- he felt filthy- 

 

He needs to focus. He needs to get himself together, and more than anything, he needs to get out of here. What is this thing? Why is it here? How is it here? He can’t- he can’t die here, oh god, he can’t- it could run loose and hurt other people and the thought of other people being attacked like this is horrible and puts a vile taste in Peter’s already blood-filled mouth. 

 

This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening. How could this have been a city patrol? This is not real, this is- it’s a nightmare, or something.

 

If Peter had a free hand he’d pinch himself.

 

Peter’s jaw comes loose with a burst of white-hot pain. All he can feel is pain and  _ Venom.  _ And he can definitely feel, so his dreams that this is a nightmare are down the drain. He can’t really recall a single other time he wished he was having a nightmare.

 

He’s so scared that every single cell in his body is on edge, screaming in fear, paralyzing him. He’s never felt anything like this- nothing he’s been through has even come remotely close to this.

 

“Dislocated jaw detected,” Karen is saying. 

 

Peter’s not sure if his eyes are open or closed. Everything is black now. He’s swallowed by it whole. Karen is talking in his ear, listing off more injuries- Peter can only hear a few of them, flickering on and off.

 

“-broken finger- leg- detected- advise you-”

 

This isn’t happening, Peter thinks again. This can’t possibly be real.

 

This is just some twisted, messed up nightmare that his brain thought up- he’s going to wake up soon, and he’ll be back in his apartment with warm orange light filtering in through the window, May’s voice ringing through the kitchen and the smell of freshly baked cookies inviting him to join her. 

 

He’s going to wake up soon. This will all be over. 

 

He needs to wake up or he will die. The thought is horrifying. If he closes his eyes he most likely will never open them again. 

 

Peter doesn’t remember being able to breathe again, but he’s suddenly aware of the fact that he is actually breathing. His entire body feels as if it’s going to cave on him at any second, or melt into a puddle and become one with the Venom. 

 

When he was under that broken building, he feared death more than anything else in the world.

 

Right now, he wants death. He just wants it all to end.

 

He thinks about all the possibilities this could’ve gone different. If he’d just left the warehouse before turning down this hallway. If he’d just decided not to come at all and that the mission wasn’t worth his time. If he’d asked Mr. Stark to accompany him, or to send an Avenger to help him.

 

But now he’s all alone and he’s dying fast and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He’s never been this miserable before.

 

He was so  _ stupid _ . He is so stupid and now he’s going to die because of it. Regret fills him in every edge of his being. He’s alone, again, and he’s scared and nobody’s coming for him.

 

There’s something really strange about the idea that he’s  _ dying.  _ Before, he was always scared of dying- it was always,  _ you’re going to die, you’re going to get killed, I don’t want to die. _

 

And now he’s  _ actually _ dying, in the action of dying.

 

Venom isn’t human. Venom doesn’t feel mercy or pity. Neither of the two exist to Venom. 

 

Venom’s touch is slow, but rough. Peter wishes it would go fast and just get things over with, but it’s slow, slow. Each time it pulls onto Peter, it wraps itself around him entirely and pulls him in different directions, twists his limbs the wrong way- but everything’s  _ slow.  _ It’ll latch onto his leg, for example, and it’ll pull, and it’ll keep pulling even though his legs  _ aren’t supposed to bend that way _ , even though Peter’s screaming bloody murder, until it snaps altogether and leaves Peter in a state of white-hot, blinding pain.

 

He’s never been this close to death before in his entire life. It’s awful and painful and without a doubt the worst thing he has ever experienced, but right now he just wants it all to be over.

 

“Karen,” Peter whispers, because she’s the only person he has left right now. His jaw protests against it and what comes out of his mouth instead is a garbled “K’r’n.” “K’r’n, h’lp me, plea’-”

 

“I can’t help you,” Karen says. “Both your webshooters are broken. I don’t know what to do, Peter.”

 

“I-” Peter chokes out. Tears sting his eyes, and he lets them fall. They dampen his mask and they’re the only source of heat he’s felt this whole time- Venom is so cold- somehow, he finds comfort in them. “K’r’n…”

 

His vision is going fast.

 

“‘t’s so cold,” Peter whispers brokenly. 

 

“Turning on heaters,” Karen says.

 

The suit begins to produce heat rapidly- Peter can feel steam rising from his body, and even though it’s normally burning, it gives off a soothing warm glow due to everything else being so cold, so desolate. He imagines himself back before Homecoming, when he was sitting on an Eagle’s nest, Tony hovering before him, his heaters turned on for the very first time. He remembers how safe he felt at that moment with somebody else with him, someone who’d saved him from drowning. 

 

He’s drowning now, again, and there’s no one to save him.

 

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Karen says. “I could not protect you.”

 

It’s his last source of comfort before this thing kills him, Peter realizes. 

 

This is the last thing he’ll ever feel, but at least it’s comfort to him now.

 

And then Venom is shrieking, melting off of him, shrinking back towards the hallway.

 

“H-uh?” Peter forces out. He looks down at himself, at his steaming suit, then back at Venom, which has curled up and is cowering from Peter. 

 

“It appears to be sensitive to heat,” Karen says. “Peter, quick, you need to get out of here while it’s weakened.”

 

Peter tries to take a step, but his leg buckles under him. He falls to the floor, his face slapping against the concrete with a wet thud sound.

 

God, he can’t move. His entire body is so sore, he can’t even feel anything. 

 

So much for the almost-win. Now he’s just delayed his death, which was the last thing he wanted in the first place.

 

Venom is still huddled into the corner, but Peter’s helpless now. He just has to wait for Venom to recover and then to be finally killed. God, he wishes this process were  _ faster, _ it’s taking so long and now he has to wait here for his own death to come. A strangled, helpless sob escapes his throat and gets lost somewhere along his bruised neck and his bloodied lip and his dislocated jaw. He lays his head in his hands and wishes he believed in a God to take him now before Venom can. Maybe he can kill himself first, but he’s not sure he even has the strength to do that.

 

“Peter, I can call somebody,” Karen says desperately. “I can seek help for you.”

 

Who would he call? Aunt May? Torture her and make her listen to his dying moments? Ned or MJ, and have them come here and watch him die before getting themselves killed too?

 

Mr. Stark? 

 

No. Mr. Stark already took away his suit once. He wouldn’t even hesitate in taking it away again if- if he saw Peter like this.

 

He’d think Peter was pathetic.

 

Peter  _ is  _ pathetic, really. But he doesn’t want Mr. Stark to realize it too. He can’t have Mr. Stark see this. 

 

“No,” Peter manages to say. His mouth tastes like blood and like the foul stench of the creature. 

 

He doesn’t need help anymore.

 

He’s beyond  _ help _ at this point. 

 

_ I’m already dead. _

  
  
  
  


_______________________

  
  
  
  
  


Peter wakes up in the med bay. 

 

Tony Stark is hovering over him, holding a chalkboard and looking very, very upset. 


	2. when evening falls so hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His head lolls to the side and he lets himself slip back into unconsciousness- living is much more pleasant when his eyes are closed and his body falls into sleep mode and the pain winds down to a dull, numb ache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't planning on posting this literally just three days after the first chapter, but i have my reasons. first of all, i wanna get this fic out of the way as soon as possible so i can focus on a new upcoming one that will be a lot longer than this, and secondly, i think most of you are probably starting school around now. summer's ending and we can all use a good pick-me-up, so here, i'm giving y'all the second chapter early!!! like, way early!! surprise!!!!!!!!!!  
> anyway, enjoy, and i'll see you down there!

To say Peter feels like shit would be an understatement. 

 

Pain is laced into every last corner of his body, wound around him tightly, making every last edge of him sore and aching and he’s not even moving, he’s lying flat on his back on probably one of the softest beds he’s ever felt. His mouth tastes like cotton. It’s difficult to breathe- he furrows his brow and slowly blinks his vision into focus, glancing down at the oxygen mask that’s strapped to his face, at the thin tubes inserted in his wrists that are connecting him to an IV and a heart monitor.

 

Oh god, a heart monitor. That means they needed to make sure his heart was still beating, and  _ that  _ means he’s really, really fucked up. 

 

Where is he? He’s disoriented from the sleep and the pain. Everything feels like he’s underwater, murky and gray and washed out and so distant.

 

His ribs feel like they’re grating against each other. His lung is burning. His broken bones are aching. His head is throbbing. His jaw is flaring. Everything feels  _ bad _ . 

 

Peter squints and tries to turn so he can look the other direction; his head swarms at even the slightest motion, making his vision blur and everything grow fuzzy. He looks back to Tony, who’s still holding a damn chalkboard- why is he holding a chalkboard…?

 

Tony says something. Peter can’t hear it. There’s a loud ringing sound in his ears that’s drowning out everything else. He’s distantly aware of the IV pumping something into his veins- he can feel the faint tingle where it’s attached in his wrist.

 

Painkillers? Maybe. Peter hopes they are, because he could really use them right about now. He thinks dimly to himself that he’s probably already on them, but if that’s right, why does everything still hurt so bad?

 

Tony’s mouth is still moving. Peter’s too tired to even try to listen anymore. His head lolls to the side and he lets himself slip back into unconsciousness- living is much more pleasant when his eyes are closed and his body falls into sleep mode and the pain winds down to a dull, numb ache.

  
  
  
  


_______________________

  
  
  
  
  


When Peter opens his eyes again, Tony’s still standing in front of him.

 

How is he in front of him again? How long has it been since he was last awake? It can’t have been that long, because Tony’s  _ still  _ here, but he feels better than he did last time. He still doesn’t feel  _ good,  _ not even close- but he feels…. better. Slightly. What happened to him, and why is he like this…? 

 

Think. Something happened. Was it… a patrol, or something? An ATM robbery gone wrong?

 

And then he remembers all at once. 

 

_ Black, slimy flesh against his own, cold and unfamiliar. Hot breath through bared fangs against his neck. Long, pink tongue slavering as it traces down his skin.  _

 

What happened was nothing close to an ATM robbery.

 

_ Venom _ happened.

 

Beside him, Peter’s heart monitor begins beeping rapidly. Tony steps into Peter’s vision with a concerned expression- “Calm down, Peter. Hey, wake up, you’re okay, just breathe.”

 

Peter takes a deep, shaky breath through his nose- his mouth is bandaged shut around his chin- and forces himself to calm down. Just the thought of the other night is enough to get him riled up. Peter tries not to think about how bad this is gonna screw with his mind. He looks back at Tony. 

 

Peter’s about to ask one of the many questions that are bubbling to the surface of his mind- above all of them is “How am I alive right now?”- but Tony says, “Don’t talk,” as if he can read his mind. Peter blinks down at the chalkboard in Tony’s hand- he still has that chalkboard, why does he have that chalkboard- then looks back at Tony with a squint and a slight tilt of his head as if to say,  _ Explain. _

 

“I know that might be hard for you,” Tony says. “Seeing how you just love to run your mouth. But you’re gonna have to wait for your jaw to heal. Normal people take a few weeks to recover from just the jaw injury, so I assume that’ll be, what, a day or two for you to be talking again? Given the fact that you’ve already slept for… three days in total, now?”

 

Peter wishes he could retort. His jaw is bandaged shut. Instead, he just lets out a deep, heavy sigh of annoyance. Tony ignores him and holds the chalkboard out to him.

 

“We need to talk,” Tony says. “So you’d better write what you wanna say on here. Your entire left arm’s pretty screwed, but your right should be okay.”

 

Peter tries not to look at his left arm, where it’s dangling in a cast. It’s mangled badly all the way to his fingertips- his left arm’s broken, and so is his wrist, and a few of his fingers are in splints too. It only occurs to him now just  _ how  _ bad he is. He hopes his healing factor is already working on it.

 

His fingers are shaking as he picks up the chalk, the chalkboard resting on his lap. Tony sits down in a chair next to the bed.

 

“Okay,” Tony says. “This is how it’s gonna work- I’ll ask you a question, you write your answer. Get it?”

 

Peter nods his head slowly, just barely, but Tony still sees it. Tony doesn’t hesitate in starting the process.

 

“Who attacked you last night?”

 

Peter closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Beside him, his heart monitor begins to pick up speed, and he forces himself to steady his breathing. 

 

He writes a hasty, _I can’t answer that._ _Not now._

 

He glances up at Tony, who’s giving him a skeptical look. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, Peter,” Tony says.

 

Peter shakes his head frantically, almost wildly,, then takes back to the chalkboard.  _ Please,  _ he writes. 

 

Tony’s stony expression falters and softens. “We’ll come back to that one,” Tony says, and the increasing pressure on Peter’s chest subsides just slightly. It’s hardly relieving, because he knows Tony won’t just forget about it, but at least it’s a delay.

 

“Why didn’t you call me?” Tony asks.

 

That’s another one that’s just out of Peter’s comfort zone. He swallows thickly. His mouth still feels too dry.

 

_ I don’t kn _

 

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence,” Tony snaps. “And don’t bullshit me, Parker, you can’t just say I don’t know. I would’ve helped you. You know I would’ve come right over and gotten you out of there, right?”

 

Peter looks down at the bed sheets and stares. 

 

Tony’s always so busy. Peter- he’s not worth it, not worth calling and  _ bothering  _ Tony just so he can save his ass from something he got himself into. It was Peter’s fault in the first place, so-

 

“Answer me, Peter,” Tony presses. “You know I would’ve helped you, right?”

 

Peter forces himself to write,  _ Yes. _

 

Tony obviously can see right past the lie, because rolls his eyes and says, “God, you’re impossible. Seriously, Peter? Do you know what happened to you last night? You almost  _ died _ , Peter. And- and I can’t have that, okay? I told you that every time you get in over your head you need to  _ call me _ , you’re lucky I tracked you and decided to check up on you, you were  _ this close _ to dying-”

 

_ You don’t think I know?!  _ Peter writes angrily. He glares at Tony with all the venom he can muster.  _ I was the one who was _

 

Peter stops. 

 

Tony’s staring at him. Peter’s not looking, but he can feel the older man’s gaze upon him, piercing into him. He lowers his head.

 

Then, a thought hits Peter in a flash and he scribbles,  _ You were there? In the warehouse? _

 

Tony nods.

 

_ Did _

 

Peter pauses for a moment, collecting himself, then continues.

 

_ Did you see it? _

 

“What’s  _ it?”  _ Tony asks, and Peter has his answer. Tony must’ve dropped in, picked up Peter, maybe ran a few vitals- but other than that, he must have gone straight in and straight out and gotten out in time before it could get him. If Tony had seen it, he’d know what it was immediately. Once you see it, it becomes the only  _ it  _ you can think of. And Peter’s glad Tony didn’t have to see it, that at least  _ his _ peace of mind will be spared.

 

“Peter,” Tony says. “What are you referring to?”

 

And suddenly, it’s like Peter’s back in the warehouse, with Venom crawling all over him and whispering in his ear and yanking at his limbs, ripping him apart slowly, piece by piece-

 

The chalk in Peter’s hand crumbles, and then the entire chalkboard snaps in two.

 

Peter’s vision is fuzzy. Bright spots dance before his eyes and he’s too disoriented to tell whether his eyes are open or closed. His ears are ringing again, but he can hear the faint, murky beep of the heart monitor picking up again. When the spots in front of his eyes finally fade away, Tony’s face comes back into focus, and his hearing comes back in short bursts-

 

“-eter- can you hear me? Hey- look at me-”

 

Peter manages to pick up one of the crumbled chalk pieces, and on one of the broken sides of the chalkboard, he writes shakily,  _ I’m fine _ .

 

And then he passes out.

  
  
  
  


_______________________

  
  
  
  
  


Peter wakes up two days later. 

 

As soon as he opens his eyes, Tony’s standing in front of him again- that can’t be possible, Peter thinks. There’s gotta be some kind of gadget that informs Tony every time he wakes up, because there’s no way Tony just happens to be there every time Peter opens his eyes. Tony may be smart, but he’s not a god. 

 

Peter feels a lot better than the last time he was awake. His injuries still hurt, yes, but the sharp pain all over his body has faded to a dull ache, to the point where it’s not noticeable and doesn’t really restrain him if he’s not moving. 

 

“Morning, sunshine,” Tony says. “Or, good evening, really. It’s 6 PM, sleeping beauty. I knew teenagers slept a lot, but two days? Really, Peter?”

 

Peter’s about to retort when he realizes the oxygen mask is still strapped to his face. He lifts his fingers to it and pries it off- Tony instantly lunges forward, easing his fingers away.

 

“Ah, ah, don’t touch,” Tony says, like Peter’s some kind of infant who needs handling.

 

Peter irritably shoves Tony’s hands away, pretending the harsh motion doesn’t startle his still-healing ribs, and yanks the mask off. “I don’t need it anymore,” Peter protests angrily. “I can breathe fine on my own. I think I’m healed, mostly- at least my lung, so.”

 

Tony stares at him. “Your jaw is fine?”

 

Peter blinks. “Oh. I guess so.”

 

“Only took you two days. Is that a record? Well, I’m glad anyway, I’m sick of this chalkboard. It’s so old-school, isn’t it?” Tony says. “Kinda lame, don’t you think?”

 

Oh, great. Peter lets out a heavy breath and looks down. Tony starts to ramble whenever he’s about to grill somebody. In a desperate attempt to change the subject before it can happen, Peter says, “Two days? How’s that even possible?”

 

“Drugs,” Tony says. “Head trauma. Other trauma. Lots of things.”

 

“Oh.” Peter’s mind is racking for things to say- something else to say, to save him from whatever Tony’s so obviously preparing to ask him, and then-

 

As if on cue, Tony says, “Can I ask you something, Peter?”

 

“Hm?”

 

Tony places the chalkboard on a side table and leans forward. 

 

“What is Venom?”

 

Peter instantly jerks against the bed involuntarily, the motion almost spastic. It jostles every injury in his body. His eyes go wide and his heart rate picks up rapidly.

 

“How do you know?” Peter forces out. “Don’t- did you go back there?! Mr. Stark, please don’t go back there, don’t go back-”

 

“I didn’t! Hey, kid, look at me.” Tony’s in front of his face now. “I didn’t, okay? It’s alright.”

 

“Too close,” Peter manages breathlessly. 

 

Tony backs up immediately. “Sorry.”

 

Peter hardly hears him over the pounding in his ears. He grabs the railing on the medical bed for support as his chest heaves and he struggles for air. His injured ribs protest against his desperate, frantic breaths.

 

Finally, his breathing evens out. He glances up at Tony, who’s watching him a few feet back at a cautious distance.

 

“Are you alright?” Tony asks worriedly.

 

Peter doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to lie and he doesn’t want to worry Tony, so his silence will have to suffice for a legitimate answer. 

 

“I didn’t go back,” Tony repeats. “I won’t go back if you don’t want me to. I just- you said it in your sleep, so.”

 

He said it in his sleep. Of course he did. Basically, in a short summary that MJ often refers to as “TLDR”, Peter had a night terror and Tony stood by pleasantly and watched him toss and turn in bed. Peter’s cheeks burn at just the thought of it- why is his life like this? He knew Parker Luck was bad, but to the point where he was mother-henned by an Avenger in his  _ sleep?  _ It’s almost a talent.

 

Tony’s staring at him now, and the two are both just  _ waiting  _ to continue the conversation about the name that’s ghosting in the air, the word that Tony dropped almost carelessly before them. 

 

Peter doesn’t want to talk about  _ it.  _ He knows he’ll have another freak out if he does, so he changes the subject instead. “You said I’ve been asleep for two days?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Can I leave now, then?”

 

Tony’s head jerks up. “What?”

 

“I don’t- I don’t wanna stay here,” Peter says. “I need to go home.”

 

“You’re injured.”

 

“I’m  _ healed, _ ” Peter protests.

 

“Not fully-”

 

“Well, it’s taking too long to heal  _ fully-” _

 

“Well, any other person would be  _ dead  _ right now, so I think you should be grateful that it even took a week!” Tony snaps. “You almost  _ died _ , Peter, what don’t you get about that? Can’t you just stay here and recover?”

 

“I’m  _ not dead!” _ Peter exclaims. “Okay?! Can you stop treating me like I’m made of glass?”

 

“I found you lying mauled in the middle of a fucking warehouse,” Tony says. “You were barely alive. And then when I brought you here, you woke up, had a freakout, and then passed out for  _ three more days,  _ Peter. You scared the living shit out of me, Peter, can’t you just let me make sure you’re okay?”

 

Peter falls silent for a moment. He curls his fists into the fabric of the hospital gown. His left fingers are still swollen and don’t quite make it all the way to his palms like the ones on his right.

 

“Well, I’m okay,” Peter says.

 

Tony doesn’t say anything. He presses his lips together and takes a deep, long breath that sounds somewhere in between a sigh and an inhale. 

 

Finally, he glances at Peter with dark eyes. “I thought you were  _ dead _ ,” he says. 

 

And then it finally hits Peter. Oh. 

 

Peter’s never been that bad before. The level of  _ bad  _ he was at was- was almost unfathomable, even to Peter, who’s been shot and stabbed and physically assaulted in all sorts of ways. He’s sure it looked just as bad on the outside as it felt on the inside. 

 

Tony was the one who had to find him like that. 

 

“I’ll stay here,” Peter finally offers. “Just for another night, though. Until… until I’m fully recovered.”

 

“And if you’re not by tomorrow,” Tony says, almost begs, “you’ll stay longer?”

 

Peter hesitates, but ends up nodding reluctantly, more for Tony’s sake than his. Because he knows Tony’s already had to watch him with an oxygen mask strapped to his face and machines helping him survive, had to hear him scream foreign words and names in his sleep, had to see him lying half-dead in a pool of his own blood on a warehouse floor. 

 

If Tony needs to see him recover, Peter will let him. 

 

Tony nods, his expression visibly easing. “Thank you,” he mumbles under his breath, then adds, “I’m glad you actually listened to your common sense for once.”

 

Peter rolls his eyes and sighs, letting himself relax against his mattress. He watches as Tony walks out of the room, and his eyelids flutter shut.

 

He doesn’t hear the door close. Tony’s footsteps stop at the door.

 

Peter drifts into sleep, and gets the feeling he’s being watched by safe eyes.

  
  
  
  


_______________________

  
  
  
  
  


The first thing Peter does when he wakes up again is stand up. 

 

His leg feels fine. A little stiff, but other than that, completely fine. He stretches out his limbs and bends over to touch his toes and everything in his body feels  _ fine. _

 

He’s almost forgotten what it’s like to not have pain flaring in nearly every corner of his body. He much prefers it to the latter. Tony enters the room- likely because his unidentified gadget that notifies him each time Peter wakes (is it a camera? A robot?) told him to- and his eyes rest on Peter’s form, stretching.

 

Peter mumbles some kind of explanation that he feels better, which is why he got out of bed, and that he’s making sure he’s perfectly, 100% healed. Tony looks skeptical and makes him walk around, stretch his legs on the mattress, crawl on the ceiling(Peter can’t comprehend why this is necessary to make sure everything’s working fine but he obliges anyway). Everything goes off without a hitch- the only sign of Peter’s previous horrific injuries is a slight limp in his right leg. 

 

When Tony still doesn’t look completely satisfied, Peter lets out an irritated huff and requests to call Aunt May. He’s never spent this much one-on-one time with Tony, and in the short period he’s experienced, he thinks maybe Tony’s even worse than May when it comes to fretting over him like a mother. At least May’s kind and comforting when she needs to be- Tony’s always on edge, always looking for something else to flip out about. Peter supposes he can’t really blame Tony for it, and that at least Tony does care enough to cluck over him, but Peter also decides he misses Aunt May. A  _ lot _ .

 

Tony gives him a pointed look, but pulls his phone out and hands it sharply to Peter. Peter takes it and dials in May’s number. As he waits for her to pick up, he can feel Tony’s gaze on him.

 

“ _ Hello _ ?”

 

“Hi, Aunt May,” Peter says. “It’s me.”

 

“ _ Peter?! Oh, I’m glad you’re okay! Tony told me you were at the Tower- didn’t tell me what for, though. You didn’t get into more Spider-Man trouble, did you?” _

 

Peter glances at Tony. Tony looks expectant. 

 

“No,” Peter says. “No trouble at all, I’m perfectly fine. Tony just needed some help in the lab. Sorry I didn’t call you earlier, it just slipped my mind.”

 

Tony visibly reaches up to rub his temples beside Peter and mutters something under his breath. Peter pretends not to notice.

 

“ _ That’s great,” _ May says. He can hear the relief in her shaky, breathless laugh. “ _ I’m glad you’re alright. I do miss you, though.” _

 

“I miss you too. I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?” Peter says. 

 

“ _ Okay, be safe, honey,”  _ May says. “ _ I love you.” _

 

“Love you too,” Peter mumbles, and ends the call. 

 

Tony is watching him. He extends his hand and Peter drops the phone back into Tony’s open palm.

 

“You lied to her,” Tony says, and Peter resists the childish instinct in him that wants to say  _ duhhh.  _ “Not the smartest move, seeing the kind of woman your aunt is.”

 

“She doesn’t need to know the truth,” Peter says decidedly.

 

“What, why? You don’t think she deserves the truth?” Tony says. Peter opens his mouth to argue when Tony adds, “You don’t think you deserve her help?”

 

That- Peter’s not sure he can argue with that. His mouth snaps shut. Tony sighs long and heavy.

 

“You’re unbelievable,” Tony says. “You’ve gotta get  better at this part of the job.”

 

Peter’s sure he’s heard this before. He sighs. “What part?”

 

“ _ Communication,”  _ Tony tells him. “Knowing when you need to reach out to other people and get help. You think when something traumatic happens to a superhero, they just sit back and keep to themselves? If you wanna be the best, and if you ever want to be an Avenger, you need to learn communication. Nobody’s asking you to get yourself nearly killed without a single call for help.”

 

Peter doesn’t know what to say, so he manages a small “okay”. Tony sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

 

“I don’t know when this is actually click for you,” Tony says. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m just talking to a wall. You're a smart kid, Peter, but if you listened you’d learn more.”

 

“I don’t need help,” Peter says quietly. “It’s not that big of a deal, honestly, Mr. Stark. I don’t need to talk about it, I’m not a weak little kid, I can handle myself. Nothing happened.”

 

Tony stares at him for a long time and then says, “You really  _ don’t _ listen, do you?”

 

Peter tosses the blankets from his legs. “If I knew you were just gonna give me dad lectures all day, I’d have left by now,” he says irritably.

 

“Where are you going?” Tony says as Peter gets up from the bed.

 

“Home,” Peter says. “I’m sick of being coddled like I’m five years old or something.”

 

“Oh my god, are all teenagers like this?” Tony mutters. “You’re ridiculous, Parker.”

 

Peter looks down at himself and remembers he’s still wearing a hospital gown. “Where’s my suit?”

 

“I’m taking it for repairs,” Tony says. “You kind of ripped up the entire thing. It’s probably a good idea to take a break anyway.”

 

Peter blinks. “You’re benching me again? Really?”

 

“This is different, okay?” Tony says, crossing his arms. “I need to actually fix the suit so you can get back and going as soon as possible. You didn’t screw up. And even if you did, we went over this, I’m not taking it away again.”

 

Peter sighs. “Okay,” he says, “fine.” 

 

He thinks it’s probably a good idea to take a break, too, but he doesn’t say it aloud. He probably needs a break right now.

 

“You told your aunt you were coming back tomorrow,” Tony says, as he pulls open a drawer of spare clothes. “Was that a lie, too?”

 

“No,” Peter says, watching as Tony lifts up a pair of Pokémon pajama pants. Tony holds it out to Peter and Peter rolls his eyes, shoving Tony’s hand away. “I’m going to see her tomorrow.”

 

“Then where are you gonna stay tonight?” Tony asks. He holds up a My Little Pony PJ’s, and Peter gapes. “How many of those do you  _ have?”  _ Peter asks skeptically. “And for what  _ purpose?” _

 

“Oh, I have dozens,” Tony says. “Look. Littlest Pet Shop, Dora the Explorer- oh, here we go, Sesame Street. This one looks nice, don’t you think?”

 

“What  _ purpose _ ?” Peter repeats, even more dramatically than before. 

 

“Just to make fun of you. It was Sam’s idea, and a damn good one. Anyway, answer the question.”

 

“I forgot the question,” Peter says. “You were being annoying for too long.”

 

“Is that  _ sass _ , Parker?” Tony tsks. “Doesn’t really work well for you. You’ve got the quips down, but your delivery’s just a little lacking. I asked where you’re staying tonight.”

 

“I’m gonna stop by Ned’s, probably. His parents are out for a few weeks, visiting relatives out of state, so he’ll let me crash there.”

 

“Are you avoiding Aunt Hottie or something?” Tony says. He thrusts a pair of sweatpants towards Peter and Peter catches them.

 

“I’m not avoiding her,” Peter says. Tony gives him a look, and Peter amends, “Okay, maybe a little. I just… don’t want her to see me like this. Especially if I- you know, if when I’m sleeping I have a….”

 

Tony doesn’t make him finish the sentence. “Here,” he says, tossing a T-shirt and a sweater at Peter. Peter pulls the clothes on over his stiff limbs. His body is still aching and protesting with each movement, but his only thoughts are of getting away from here before Tony can lecture him further. And then Tony can get working on his suit as quickly as possible. Peter wonders randomly if Karen has the capability to store memories, and if she’ll address what happened later on when he gets his suit back on. Or maybe even rat Peter out to Tony. He hopes she won’t.

 

“Okay, thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter says. “I’m gonna head out-”

 

Peter stops midstep. He turns back, looking at Tony.

 

“I can’t drive,” Peter remembers.

 

“Sometimes I wonder how you’re so smart and so incredibly idiotic at the same time, kid,” Tony says. “I already texted Happy, he’ll take you down to Queens.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark!” Peter chirps again. He turns away, then rushes back into the elevator. 

 

Tony watches the elevator doors close.

 

Peter Parker will be the death of him. 

 

Tony sighs and rubs at his temples.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a sucker for dad tony too, okay? let me live man  
> tony and peter are...... so cute...... like, so cute, and i love the idea of tony having little to no clue how to handle peter. i mean, this kid's fifteen, was just nearly killed and instantly pops back on his feet and goes "can i go home now????" honestly, peter's a headache that tony would never be able to handle. and that's why they're too cute hhh  
> this was a fun chapter to write! but next chapter's definitely the best imo. so stay tuned y'all, i think you're really gonna wanna read chapter 3!


	3. sail on, silver girl (sail on by)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Peter? You good?”
> 
> “I’m fine,” he says. It’s not completely true, but he needs to finish talking to Tony. “So, um… you saw… all of it, then?”
> 
> Tony pauses just slightly. “All of it,” he confirms.
> 
> “And you saw… it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it hasn't been a week, and my schedule's totally off, but school blows and i've been pining to just get this over with for way too long now. so here it is, and pls read end notes!!

Being in Happy’s car is always foreign to Peter. It’s so clean and well-kept and high-tech. It always smells like lavender and the seats feel like they still haven’t been broken in. Peter’s much more accustomed to rotting leather seats and trash littering the floor and broken door handles and dice in the mirror.

 

It’s not necessarily a bad change, though Peter has definitely gotten past the awestruck stage he was in when he first rode in here. But it’s definitely not anything like what Peter considers home.

 

Happy hasn’t said a word to Peter other than the quiet greeting and the nod towards the car that indicated for Peter to get in. His eyes don’t leave the road as he finally decides to speak, saying, “How are things, Parker?”

 

“Fine,” Peter says flatly.

 

“You doing okay?”

 

“Yes….?” Peter glares at Happy through the rear view mirror. Happy glances up and catches Peter’s sharp gaze.

 

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Happy asks.

 

“Why’re you asking if I’m ‘doing okay’?” Peter says defensively. “Did Mr. Stark say something to you?”

 

“No,” Happy says. “I can’t just check in on you every once in awhile? Tony sort of assigned me to be your caretaker, you know.”

 

“I don’t need a  _ caretaker,”  _ Peter snaps.

 

“You’re obviously on edge right now,” Happy says. “I could already tell by myself something’s off with you.”

 

“Great.”

 

“Don’t sass me,” Happy scoffs. “I will not let myself be sassed by a 12-year-old.”

 

“I’m not 12!” Peter exclaims. “Happy, seriously, you didn’t even talk with Mr. Stark at all? He didn’t say a single thing to you?”

 

Peter’s basically begging Happy to rat Tony out, but Happy doesn’t fall for the bait. What he does say, however, is, “He didn’t say anything to me, but I came in when you were sleeping.”

 

“Ohhh, my godddd,” Peter groans, slumping in his seat. He dramatically throws his hands over his face. “Do you both just stare at me every time I fall asleep? Remind me never to take a nap in the Tower ever again. God, that is so embarrassing.”

 

“Okay, we’re not pedophiles, and we’re not creepy either,” Happy says. “You’re a total drama queen, Parker. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, Tony called me in the middle of the night on Monday freaking out because he found you half-dead in an abandoned warehouse, that doesn’t sound concerning in the slightest to you?”

 

Peter thinks about the fact that he was talking in his sleep at the Tower, that Tony had witnessed it, and the thought of both Tony  _ and  _ Happy listening in on him while he panicked and had a night terror is so embarrassing that Peter wants nothing more than to shrink down like Ant-Man in between the car seats, and hopefully never be found again. “That’s no excuse for watching a fifteen-year-old sleeping without his consent!” Peter protests. And he does have to admit, he does sound like a total drama queen even to himself- from the way he says it, it’s like they sexually harrassed him or something.

 

“Really, kid,” Happy says with a sigh, ignoring him. “You should have called Tony if you needed help. You can even call me anytime you want, whenever you need something. I would’ve done something, I…. I could’ve helped you.”

 

Peter bites his lip and stares down at his hands. He looks up again and catches Happy’s eyes in the rearview.

 

“You said Mr. Stark didn’t tell you anything,” Peter says. 

 

“Maybe he told me a little bit,” Happy says. “I’m just saying, you should listen to him. He’s got a point.”

 

Peter rests his head against the leather car seat and watches the buildings pass. He can feel Happy’s gaze upon him in the rearview.

  
  
  
  


_______________________

  
  
  
  
  


Peter rings the doorbell and almost instantly the door swings open.

 

Ned is standing inside, eyes wide and his jaw dropped. MJ is standing behind him with a much less exaggerated expression.

 

“Peter?!” Ned exclaims. “Why’re you still up, it’s the middle of the night!”

 

“You’re up too,” Peter points out. “And so is MJ, apparently. You didn’t invite me? I’m offended.”

 

“You’re a dick,” MJ proclaims matter-of-factly. “We did invite you, we’ve been inviting you this whole week. Why haven’t you answered your phone or been at school?”

 

“I was at the Tower,” Peter says. “With Mr. Stark.”

 

MJ raises an eyebrow. “For a week?”

 

“He needed help in the lab.”

 

“That’s a lie,” MJ says. 

 

Peter internally curses her out for being so damn good at telling whether or not people are lying. “You should be a detective,” Peter says defeatedly, and hopes the two of them will give it up.

 

“What happened?” Ned asks.

 

“Yeah, Peter, what  _ really  _ happened?” MJ prompts.

 

“Can I stay the night?” Peter asks. 

 

“ _ Peter _ ,” they both say.

 

“Answer the question, loser,” MJ says.

 

Peter swallows and shifts his feet. “Nothing happened, okay? Seriously.”

 

MJ and Ned both watch him tersely. Ned opens the door wider and Peter steps in, pretending he doesn’t see MJ’s icy gaze on him. 

 

“There’s something wrong with him,” MJ whispers to Ned. Peter can hear her clearly- it’s one thing about having enhanced senses that he’s thankful for, it provides him the ability to eavesdrop excellently. 

 

“What do you mean?” Ned whispers back.

 

“He’s totally off. Something happened to him, I’m gonna find out.”

 

“Don’t grill him!” Ned says. His voice is still hushed but slightly shriller, more frantic. “He’s obviously not in the place to talk about it-”

 

“I’m tired,” Peter says, cutting their whisper-conversation off short. “Where are we sleeping?”

 

“Couch,” Ned says. “Well, MJ wants the couch. We have sleeping bags, though, they’re upstairs- I’ll go get them.”

 

Peter watches as Ned disappears up the staircase. As soon as he’s gone from sight, MJ turns on her heel and is in Peter’s face.

 

“You’re hiding something,” MJ says. “Something happened when you were gone.”

 

“I’m not-”

 

“Liar-”

 

“-hiding anything, I told you-”

 

“You’re a terrible liar-”

 

“Nothing happened!”

 

MJ stares at him for a long time, then shakes her head. “I can’t believe you don’t trust me,” she says.

 

“I do trust you! Okay? I trust you and Ned both,” Peter says. 

 

“Then what-”

 

“Please stop asking me,” Peter begs, his voice strained. “Don’t. I don’t want to talk.”

 

MJ’s mouth snaps shut. She looks over him. 

 

“You’re injured,” she observes. “You have a slight limp on your right leg and all your movements are stiff.”

 

She’s too observant for something like that to slip by her. And Peter’s almost healed by now, but she was still able to notice. Peter sighs, looking down.

 

“You don’t have to tell me,” MJ says, “but-”

 

“What are we talking about?” 

 

Ned returns from upstairs, holding a sleeping bag under each arm. One’s blue and the other’s red. He steps down to the tile and bends down, laying the mattresses out.

 

“I’ll take a sleeping bag, actually,” MJ says. “Peter should sleep on the couch.”

 

“What?” Ned and Peter say together, and Ned adds a confused “Why?”

 

“He seems tired,” MJ explains. “He needs good rest more than I do.”

 

Before Peter can argue, MJ flops down onto the blue sleeping bag and turns over while Ned is still finishing laying it out. Ned yelps and jumps away as MJ spreads her long limbs over the mattress, claiming it as her own. 

 

Ned and Peter lock gazes for a moment, and then Ned shrugs and lays down on the red sleeping bag. 

 

Peter sighs and drops onto the couch. It’s so soft that it sinks under his weight and he rests his head on one of the pillows. 

 

Ned turns the light out. 

 

Peter sucks in a breath.

 

It’s okay. There’s nothing to be worried about here- Peter’s not even sure why he thought that, of course there’s nothing to worry about. He’s surrounded by two of his friends, on a comfortable couch with  _ plenty _ of space. 

 

Peter finds himself studying the room intensely for windows. There aren’t enough windows here. Something could happen- something could be lurking here, in the dark corner of the room, something  _ dangerous,  _ and where would they be able to escape?

 

Peter blinks. No, why’d he think that? There’s nothing  _ here.  _ It’s not like there’s some big, slimy black creature waiting in the shadows with a monstrous rough tongue and two rows of jagged teeth that could easily tear through his flesh in seconds- 

 

Peter gasps, yanking the sheet up tighter and closer to his body- no, no, it’s too close, too hot now- he throws it off of himself and it feels much better, but now his whole body is exposed, out in the open, vulnerable.

 

Peter realizes he’s shaking. He sinks his fingers into the leather of the couch and grips it tightly with a deep, shaky breath. 

 

It’s okay.

 

The house is warm and inviting and smells like strawberries and that green tea mochi ice cream that Ned’s mom always buys at the Korean market. MJ and Ned are breathing beside him, and they’re  _ human  _ and they’re his  _ friends _ and  _ not Venom. _

 

This isn’t that night, not even close, and Peter still feels like this.

 

He squeezes his eyes shut, shuddering at the thought of the thing. Where is it now? Has it moved from where it was in the warehouse? Is it still there? 

 

What if Tony lied to him? What if Tony’s going back there right now? What if somebody from S.H.I.E.L.D. goes in there, or another hero- even worse, a civilian, a passerby? 

 

What if that thing is just outside the door,  _ waiting for him?  _

 

It had said it could smell Peter’s scent, Peter remembers in a flash. Oh god, it could be tracking him down right now. He could’ve led it straight to Ned and MJ. Images of Venom lunging at them, drowning them in blackness,  _ torturing _ them flash before his mind, and Peter can practically feel Venom against his own skin, the cold, slimy touch against him, and it’s too dark too dark too dark too close too close too close-

 

A hand touches his arm and Peter springs into the air. 

 

His feet hit the ceiling and he scrambles ungracefully into the corner of the room upside-down, clinging to the roof. 

 

He’s shaking. He can’t see anything. Everything’s too dark- what  _ was that? _

 

“Peter!” It’s MJ’s voice. “Peter, hey, calm down, it’s just me. It’s MJ.”

 

Peter’s too stunned to respond. He curls his legs into his chest- he can’t see her, he needs to see her, Venom could be right behind her, it could be right behind  _ him _ -

 

Peter yelps and his back hits the wall. At least Venom can’t be behind him now. He clasps his hands over his ears.

 

He can hear MJ and Ned talking, muffled. He’s barely able to make out their voices-

 

“-going on?! Is he-”

 

“-don’t know, I just-”

 

“Turn the lights on,” Peter says. His voice comes out strangled and at first he’s not sure if they heard, but then there’s a clicking sound and the room fills with light again.

 

The light is almost too bright- it burns his eyes and for a moment he’s blinded, but he’s never been more relieved in his life. He stares at Ned, then at MJ.

 

Venom is nowhere here. Venom’s gone, it’s over.

 

Peter drops back to the couch warily. He’s still trembling. He nervously reaches up and ruffles his hair on the back of his neck.

 

“Sorry,” he says. His voice breaks at the end- no, he’s okay now, he’s  _ okay now,  _ why is his voice breaking…?

 

And then he feels his eyes beginning to sting.

 

Oh, no. No, no, no.

 

He is not going to  _ cry  _ in front of his best friends. Not now. Please, god no- Peter begs whatever god might be out there to please, please let him _ not cry. _

 

Tears spill down his cheeks and then he’s crying and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. A sob escapes his lips and he instantly claps a hand over his mouth but it’s too late, it’s already out there, and Ned and MJ both visibly stiffen at the sound. 

 

This is an actual  _ nightmare,  _ Peter thinks. He’s literally breaking down in front of them and worst of all, he’s making them  _ uncomfortable _ . 

 

“Sorry,” Peter blurts. “Sorry, I didn’t- I- sorry-”

 

Ned and MJ are standing in front of him now. Ned has his hands out in an awkward, half-hug gesture- “Can I- Is it okay for me to hug you? Or is touching not okay right now?”

 

Peter shakes his head. “Not okay,” he manages feebly. “I’m sorry. I wish I could get a hug from you right now, you’re-” he sniffles- “you’re the best hugger in the entire world, I just…. I don’t think I can right now.”

 

“It’s fine,” Ned says quickly. “That’s fine, you- you’re fine. We’ll just sit. With the lights on. Do you- do you wanna talk?”

 

“Yes? No. Maybe… A little, I think. Not completely sure right now.” Peter wipes his tears and mumbles “shit” under his breath at just how royally fucked up he is. MJ and Ned both sit fast on their sleeping bags a very safe distance away and look up at Peter expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

 

“I had, um, a rough night? The other day?” Peter says, pulling a pillow to his chest and hugging it tight. “I don’t…. It was just… unlike anything I’ve ever…..”

 

He looks up at them. 

 

“Nothing like this has ever happened to me before,” he says.

 

They’re all silent for a moment. 

 

Ned says, “I wish there was more we could do to help… hugs usually make things a little better, but now I’m not sure what I can do.”

 

“It’s fine,” Peter says. “I don’t need help.”

 

Ned and MJ both instantly make faces and Peter sighs, waiting for what comes next. Someone’s gonna ask, he thinks, someone’s-

 

“Have you talked to anybody else?” MJ asks. Of course she asked. “Tony Stark? Your aunt? Harley Homan-”

 

“Happy Hogan,” Peter mumbles.

 

“-Anybody?” MJ finishes.

 

“No,” Peter admits. “But it’s okay, I said I don’t need-”

 

“You do,” Ned and MJ say together almost irritably. Peter blinks.

 

“You can’t just keep doing this to yourself, Peter,” Ned says. “Going out alone and getting hurt and refusing to talk to anyone. It’s unhealthy. You need to let other people-”

 

“Help me,” Peter says. “Everybody’s been a broken fucking record about it. I need help, I’m not good enough, I need to be better, need to get better, I’m too young and I’m a little kid and I’m incapable of doing anything right myself- I’m just broken and I need to be fixed, don’t I?”

 

“Okay, don’t be an asshole about this,” MJ says. “You think Ned said any of that? You think any of us are saying that? You don’t need to be  _ fixed,  _ Peter, so don’t say that. We just want to help you. Not everybody’s out to get you, okay? You’ve got people in your corner, you just need to recognize it.”

 

“I wish you’d talk to us,” Ned says, “but we’re not going to make you do anything, okay? Just know we’re here for you whenever you need anything. And you’re not alone.”

 

Peter stares at the two of them.

 

“I’m not trying to say that I understand what’s going on with you right now,” MJ says, “and I might never. But if you ever feel…. scared, or out of place, or hurt, it helps to focus on someone who’s safe.”

 

Peter fixes his gaze on Ned, who gives a supportive nod, then back to MJ. 

 

These are his friends. They care about him, and they’re here for him. The thought is extremely comforting and makes Peter feel a lot better.

 

Maybe they’re right. He’s not so alone after all.

 

He ends up sleeping sandwiched between the two of them on the floor with the lights on.  They’re not touching him- they’re both lying a few feet away from him, giving him comfortable breathing space but still serving a reminder that they’re here with him. Peter can’t help but feel guilty that they’re leaving the lights on all night- he can’t even imagine how that could affect Ned’s parents’ electricity bills- but it does help him avoid the panic.

 

It still takes a while for him to fall asleep, but when he does it’s sweet and peaceful and dreamless, and he gets at least six hours. 

 

It might be the most he gets in a long time, but he enjoys every last second of it.

  
  
  
  


_______________________

  
  
  
  
  


When Peter’s phone rings in the morning and the contact name reads Tony Stark, his first instinct is to hang up. He knows this has something to do with Venom, with yesterday, with all of this.

 

But he can’t hide from this forever. He especially can’t risk if Tony has something important to say.

 

“Can I take this?” Peter asks MJ and Ned, rising from the table where they’re eating cereal for breakfast. Both of them nod, so Peter steps outside, not wanting them to listen in on the conversation for both his own good and theirs.

 

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter says once he’s outside and out of earshot. “What’s up?”

 

“ _ Hey, Pete. How’s it going?”  _ Before Peter can even respond, Tony continues, “ _ Listen. Don’t freak out, okay?” _

 

Peter draws in a long, shaky breath, dreading Tony’s next sentence. “You know, when you say ‘don’t freak out’, it implies you think that what you have to say will freak me out, which really only freaks me out more.”

 

Tony ignores him.  _ “I was fixing up your suit, and while I was doing repairs on the mask, I- you know the Baby Monitor Protocol?” _

 

“I don’t know why you have to call it that,” Peter groans.

 

_ “It was another one of Sam’s fantastic ideas,” _ Tony says. “ _ Really, you should give him a call sometime and thank him for all he’s done for you.” _

 

“Why does he hate me?”

 

“ _ He doesn’t hate you, it’s called affectionate teasing. Bucky helped think of it, so maybe you should give him a few props too. And to be honest, I think they’re still bitter over the airport fight when you kicked their asses.” _

 

“Really?”

 

“ _ Yes, he’s called you a little asshole on multiple occasions. Anyway _ ,” Tony cuts in sharply. “ _ We’re getting off topic here. The Baby Monitor Protocol allows your AI- by the way, she told me you named her Karen, which is interesting, I guess- it allows her to record everything you see. I know I probably should’ve asked you first, but… I rolled back the footage to last week on the night you were attacked.” _

 

Peter’s breath catches. He feels like he’s stopped breathing altogether.

 

“ _ Peter? You good?” _

 

“I’m fine,” he says. It’s not completely true, but he needs to finish talking to Tony. “So, um… you saw… all of it, then?”

 

Tony pauses just slightly. “ _ All of it, _ ” he confirms.

 

“And you saw…  _ it.” _

 

_ “I did,”  _ Tony says. “ _ Listen, Peter. That thing-” _

 

“Please don’t talk about it,” Peter says. “I don’t… I don’t even want to think about it right now. It’s too soon.”

 

“ _ Okay,”  _ Tony says. “ _ We don’t have to. We’ll take care of all that later, then, how about that? I just wanted to call to say that nobody should’ve gone through what you went through, and I’m sorry that you did have to. It was so awful-” _

 

“You’re talking about it.”

 

“ _ Sorry. My bad. I just… you’re stronger than you realize, kid. I know everything seems so off and so wrong right now, but you’re gonna be just fine. Things are just gonna get better from here, alright?” _

 

“Okay,” Peter says, his voice thick.

 

“ _ Okay,” _ Tony echoes. “ _ Cool. And next time, you will call me when you need help, right?” _

 

“Yes,” Peter says. He means it. “I will.”

 

“ _ Peter, I know you probably don’t feel like talking about it,” _ Tony says. “ _ I know you don’t want to talk about it. I know you’re scared. But if you keep all of it to yourself, it’ll only make all that fear build up inside you and make things worse. Trust me, I’m speaking from experience here.” _

 

“I don’t-” Peter begins, but Tony cuts him off.

 

“ _ I’m not saying you have to talk about it now, with me,”  _ Tony says. “ _ I’m not gonna force you to do anything. I know you probably don’t even feel comfortable enough with me, at least not right now. Just… you should talk to the person who’s closest to you, a person you trust the most and feel safe with. It’ll make everything easier.and you’ll feel a lot better. Trust me.” _

 

Peter doesn’t say anything, so Tony adds, “ _ Think about it?” _

 

“Okay,” Peter agrees. “I’ll think about it. Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

 

“ _ We’ll fix this,”  _ Tony promises. “ _ All of this.” _

  
  
  
  


_______________________

  
  
  
  
  


_ “Hey, are you coming back home soon? Your aunt’s getting kind of worried. You know her.”  _

 

There’s a soft chuckle on the end of the line that Peter knows so well, and it always makes Peter’s heart clench up. He closes his eyes and takes a quiet breath.

 

_ “Hope you’re okay out there. I’m sure you are, Pete.” _

 

“ _ You always do the right thing,” _ Peter whispers in perfect sync with the voice on the phone. 

 

He knows this message too well.

 

_ “Can we talk about what happened?”  _ The man on the phone takes a deep breath that sounds like a sad, almost wistful sigh.  _ “Just… please come home, Peter, as soon as possible. I know you like to close in on yourself. I know you like to be alone. I get that, Peter, I do. But sometimes communication’s the only way past that. We can’t ignore what happened, and even if everything seems so chaotic, so much all at once… I’m waiting right here at home, right in your corner. I always will be. Just come back and we can fix it all.” _

 

Peter can still remember the fight like it was yesterday. It’s his biggest regret. He couldn’t forget it if he tried, and he has tried. 

 

_ “We miss you,”  _ the voice on the phone says.

 

A short burst of static and a prolonged beep tell Peter that the voice mail is over.

 

Peter keeps the phone pressed tight to his ear even after it’s gone silent.

 

“I miss you too,” Peter says.

 

Sometimes, when Peter closes his eyes, it’s like he can go back to the past and find moments when Uncle Ben was still here and live in them. He can close his eyes and be back in his kitchen, seven years old, sitting on the counter and eating ice cream out of the pint with Ben, eight years and watching Iron Man on the news with Ben, can feel Ben’s warm arms draped around his small shoulders. Ben was… he was everything. Everything was always perfect when he was here.

 

And now, Ben’s gone and Peter’s… broken. In every way.

 

He lets the phone drop down to his lap and stares at the screen where Uncle Ben’s name is written in small text. The voice mail is dated from almost a year ago. 

 

_ You always do the right thing. _

 

Peter’s not so sure about that anymore. He tries so hard to do the right thing, all the time. 

 

But if doing the right thing is having to go through obstacles like Venom over and over again, Peter’s not sure he wants to keep doing this anymore. He can’t imagine going through the same process of torture one more time. If anything like that happens to him again he might- he  _ will-  _ die.

 

It’s not fair, Peter thinks childishly. It’s not fair he has to put up with all this bullshit. He’s only  _ fifteen _ .

 

But another thought dawns on him all at once. What if Peter hadn’t stumbled upon Venom that night? What if he’d left and some other civilian had wandered into the warehouse and faced the same fate Peter had?

 

This is why he does it. It’s not because it’s fair or unfair. If it was a matter of justice, Peter would just sit at home all day and leave innocents to be murdered by threats like Venom.

 

He does it because he has to protect people like them- people like Ben. 

 

Peter stares at Ben’s name on the phone screen. His eyes sting. 

 

He wishes Ben were here. Ben was Peter’s other half. Ben would- he’d be so  _ proud _ if he saw the length Peter went to in order to protect the people.

 

Peter wants nothing more than to make Ben proud. 

 

He can’t undo what happened with Venom. At first he’d been thinking about how damned he was to have to experience that thing, but- but now he knows, now he’s gotten the information to Mr. Stark and they can take care of the awful thing and other people can be spared. 

 

He can’t undo it, and he does wish he could. But at least he’s done the right thing, so… maybe things will be just fine for him from here.

 

Mr. Stark promised they’d fix all of this. Peter firmly believes him.

 

_ I know you like to close in on yourself. I know you like to be alone.  _

 

Peter curls his fingers into a fist. He looks up into the reddish orange sky, then stares down the street at his apartment building. He imagines May in the kitchen of their small apartment, her head thrown back as she laughs into the morning air. 

 

Peter plays the voice mail one more time, just to be safe. To feel... safe.

 

_ “We can’t ignore what happened,”  _ says Ben’s warm, low voice, “ _ and even if everything seems so chaotic, so much all at once…”  _

 

Peter slows his walk to a stop and stares up at his apartment building.

 

“I’m waiting right here at home, right in your corner.”

  
  
  
  


_______________________

  
  
  
  
  


When Peter steps out of the elevator, there’s a brown paper bag lying at the foot of his apartment door.

 

Peter’s headphones are in- he’s listening to Ben’s favorite 70’s playlist- he takes one earbud out and blinks, stepping closer almost cautiously. The bag can be one of two things- a gift bomb from one of Spider-Man’s many overaggressive enemies, or a gift bomb from a single overaggressive Flash.

 

Peter bends down. It’s neither of the two. Across the bag written in a familiar scrawl is “You should have this -TS”

 

Is it his suit? Already? Peter frowns, not sure if he even wants it back right at this moment, but he reaches down and opens the bag up. It’s too small to be able to hold anything as big as his suit, so it can’t be that.

 

His hand touches something smooth that feels like hard plastic. Maybe it’s a bomb from Tony after all. 

 

He pulls it out of the bag. It fits perfectly in his hand.

 

His eyes rest on the gift.

 

It’s a small, round  [ plastic bird ](http://m.aliexpress.com/s/item/32463383450.html?trace=wwwdetail2mobilesitedetail&productId=32463383450&productSubject=Cute-Bird-Nightlight-Creative-Kids-Homing-Lights-LED-Lamp-Countryside-Romantic-Lamp-Light-Control-Home-Warm) that’s glowing with a gentle orange light. It has a round, friendly face and adorable button eyes and it makes Peter’s heart melt.

 

A night light.

 

A small, soft “oh” escapes Peter’s lips before he even realizes it and he turns the bird around carefully in his fingers. It’s warm to the touch and makes Peter’s chest seize up in a good way. It’s… it’s so delicate, so small and so  _ safe- _ looking. 

 

Maybe MJ’s right. Not everybody’s out to get him. 

 

He can’t stop the stupid smile that creeps onto his face without his realizing. He reluctantly drops the bird back into the bag, picking up the bag entirely, and steps back a few feet to look at the door.

 

He’s home now.

 

Peter reaches up and places his earbud back in. He closes his eyes and lets the soft, quiet hum of  [ the song ](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=H_a46WJ1viA) block out everything else. 

 

Peter thinks about how lucky he is that he’s got a Tony Stark, that he’s got a Happy Hogan, that he has a Ned Leeds and a Michelle Jones and a May Parker, and they’re all here to help him and provide him everything he needs whenever he calls upon him. 

 

It feels good to have so many people right here at home. Right in his corner. 

 

He’s still got a Ben Parker, too. Even if not physically, maybe in the form of a 70’s hit song, or a tiny glowing bird. 

 

For every bit of fear in Peter has of Venom, of the dark, of close physical contact and cold touches and slimy substance and hot breath and whispers in his ears, he’s got a night light from Tony, Ned and MJ giving him space to breathe, May’s warm presence, Happy’s lavender-scented car, soft worn couches and Ben’s old music on loop. 

 

It doesn’t make the fear go away. It doesn’t cancel out the stress and the trauma and the anxiety and the panic that seizes him with a death grip every time he takes a breath. 

 

But he can fight back. He has people to help him fight back. He always has. 

  
  
  


_______________________

  
  
  
  
  


“May,” Peter calls. “I’m home.”

 

May instantly steps into view. Her hair flies behind her shoulders as she walks toward him with a soft, warm smile.

 

“Hi, Peter,” she says. “How are you doing?”

 

“Good,” he says. She steps forward and pulls him into her arms. He only stiffens slightly at her touch, and then he shuts the door behind him and wraps his arms around her back, letting himself melt into her touch. He pats her long, soft hair and buries his face in her sleeve. 

 

It’s the first close touch he’s had since that night. Somehow he’s fine, and being this close to her doesn’t make him feel threatened or scared. 

 

_ Focus on someone who’s safe. _

 

May is safe. When he’s here with her, nothing can harm him.

 

“I missed you,” he says. 

 

“I missed  _ you _ ,” she tells him. “You were gone for a whole week, Peter! How was the Tower? Everything go okay at the lab?”

 

The lab. Right. Peter’d almost forgotten he lied to her.

 

“Everything went just fine,” he says, pulling back with a smile. He follows her into the kitchen.

 

Warm daylight filters in from the windows, pouring through the thin curtains and illuminating the room brightly. As Peter passes the kitchen he can smell cookies in the oven, fresh and sweet. May’s perfume smells like daisies. The tiles are smooth under his feet. The furniture is worn, but familiar and cozy. 

 

This is his home. This is his safeplace.

 

Everything’s going to be okay, Peter tells himself, and he actually believes it wholeheartedly. Everything will be just… okay. 

 

May sits down on the couch and looks up at Peter through her wide lensed glasses. An almost secretive smile plays at her lips- she almost always has this look when she gazes at him, and Peter wonders distantly what causes it. Maybe it’s just the thought of him that makes her smile, just the sight of him, here with her. Maybe she loves him just as much as he loves her, maybe even more. 

 

Peter decides that’s not possible. He loves her more than anyone could imagine. No way she loves him more than he loves her.

 

“So, anything exciting you wanna tell me? How’s Tony Stark?” May asks. 

 

“Good, he’s good.”

 

Peter looks down at his feet nervously. May frowns and tilts her head.

 

“Peter…? Honey, are you okay?”

 

“I’m okay,” Peter lies. “I’m fine. Can I… can I sit down here?”

 

May moves her legs to the side. Peter lets himself down onto the torn leather couch and he sinks into it, his head resting against her shoulder. It’s soft but it’s warm and feels gentle under him, inviting, not threatening at all, not like- 

 

Not like….

 

Even when it’s here, and she’s here, and he’s…  _ here, _ he can’t help but think about it. He closes his eyes. 

 

The effects aren’t instantaneous, like he’d originally thought. He’d expected to come home and that- that everything would be  _ fine _ , that he wouldn’t have to think about it and that when he did, the thought of it wouldn’t still send chills down his spine and make his heartbeat quicken and his breathing shallow. He thought he’d be able to revert back to the way he was before, before he was tortured and hurt and broken like this. 

 

It’s frustrating. Peter wishes everything would go the way he’d imagined, fit perfectly into all the seams like a photo into a frame. But there are rough edges still. 

 

Maybe he’ll be like this forever. Maybe every time he closes his eyes he’ll see it lurking behind him. Maybe every time he sleeps he’ll think he’s back there. Maybe every time someone touches him he’ll feel it against his skin, breathing down his neck.

 

But he can get better. Change doesn’t happen in a few days- it doesn’t even happen in weeks, months. It takes time. 

 

He has time. He can do this. Not just because he’s a superhero, but because he has people in his corner. 

 

_ If you wanna be the best, and if you ever want to be an Avenger, you need to learn communication. _

 

He does want to be the best. He does want to be an Avenger, too, eventually. So he’ll have to take the baby steps first.

 

“I lied to you,” Peter admits. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Huh?” May shifts her head so that she can look at him. She frowns and furrows her brow.

 

“I lied about being at the Tower all week,” Peter says. “Well, I was, but- but I wasn’t helping Tony at the lab. And I lied when I said I was doing good, and that everything went fine. And when I said I was okay. I just- things have been crazy, you know? I-  _ I’ve _ gone crazy, I….”

 

He trails off. May’s hand finds his head and she cradles his upper body in her arms like she did when he was a child. He feels like a child when he’s like this, laying in her lap, clinging to her shirt. 

 

And it’s actually not so bad of a thing, being treated like a kid. He realizes he needed this- to feel like a kid every once in awhile. It’s not so embarrassing or demeaning after all. It feels surprisingly natural. 

 

He lets himself pretend for a moment that he’s a normal kid living in Queens. A normal little boy hanging on his mother’s skirts, seeking comfort from her.

 

Peter sighs and leans into her touch, his hands curling into her sleeves.

 

“It’s okay,” May says softly.

 

“I don’t know if I’m going to be okay,” Peter admits. “I just don’t know anymore.”

 

“I know you’ll be okay,” May tells him in a soothing voice. “You always are.”

 

“Okay” is the key word here. It doesn’t mean “fixed”, or “good”, or “perfect”. Peter will never, ever be any of those things.

 

But okay is a promise that May can keep- that Tony and Happy and MJ and Ned and Peter can all keep. That things will get better and eventually, everything will be just that- okay. 

 

Her hands are gentle in his hair. Peter has never felt safer than he does now, wrapped in her embrace on their torn up sofa and the soft, bright orange light filtering in from all directions. 

 

_ Think about it,  _ Tony asked of him on the phone.

 

Peter lifts his head so he can look up at May. They lock gazes. 

 

He takes a deep, steadying breath, and begins-

 

“Something bad happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -sam and bucky totally thought of the names for the baby monitor and training wheels protocols. and they definitely bought the hello kitty pjs and more. you can’t convince me otherwise, it’s canon now!!!!! but totally inspired by anthony and seb’s endless teasing of tom.  
> -my beta reader actually gave me the idea of peter getting a cute little night light, and it was just so adorable i couldn’t resist. so shoutout to her, she’s awesome !!  
> -my inspiration hits me in weird little ways. originally, i just wanted this to be a tiny one-shot that was pure peter whump, then him recovering and learning how to deal with the trauma and anxiety that followed, and the one thing i knew for sure i wanted was for it to end with the sentence “something bad happened”. and then along the way i just started adding more, and i’m actually super proud with the result! i think peter having to experience things like this is so real- venom is one of the most terrifying villains and peter would never be the same if he had to face him. at the same time, it’s part of his job and he’ll have to experience some really bad things soon in the cinematic verse. and he’s only fifteen- coping with things as bad as this is unthinkable.   
> -i drew tons of inspiration from the song “bridge over troubled water”, as you can probably tell. give that song a listen and try not to cry, it’s just gorgeous! plus i added the picture of the bird just to help you guys see what it was.  
> -thank you for reading!! my tumblr is too-many-bees, hmu there. and leave a nice comment, tell me what you thought!! xx

**Author's Note:**

> kinda short first chapter, but hey this was originally gonna be a one-shot so!! there's three chapters to this, the other two are already written and just waiting to be beta'd, i'll try to post one every week.  
> comments make make me super happy, so please do!!!!!!!  
> also too-many-bees is my tumblr. hmu!  
> see y'all next chapter, thanks 4 reading <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [When Darkness Falls](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15438306) by [ChloeNyme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeNyme/pseuds/ChloeNyme)




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